Then a shadow flickered over the Drone, a stick of bombs slammed into the hill, and black smoke billowed up to stain the sky. The first fighter was closely followed by a second and a third, as the Chimeran pilots began to prepare the objective for the ground assault to come.
Did the fly-stinks realize that the Attack Drone had been hijacked? He had no way of knowing. Not that it mattered a great deal, since Capelli’s machine was too small and maneuverable for the fighters to engage effectively.
But the Stalkers were a threat, and a very significant one, as they fired a broadside that exploded all around him. The resulting shock wave threw the Drone into the side of the hill. Capelli fell, and everything went black.
For the first time in months Judge Ramsey felt scared. But he knew it was important not to show it. So as Hunter stood in front of the big desk, and waited for permission to deliver his report, Ramsey made a show out of lighting a cigar. “Okay,” he said finally, once the tube of tobacco was drawing properly. “What’s the situation?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” Hunter replied honestly. “Someone or something began to kill the lookouts on the south side of the hill about half an hour ago. And when I sent men up to replace them, they got killed too.”
Ramsey frowned. “What is the bastard using? Projectiles or bullets?”
“My guess is bullets. Although it’s hard to tell with head shots.”
“It’s probably a human, then,” Ramsey concluded. “Although that’s kind of strange given the circumstances. So what have the lookouts on the north side got to say?”
The train shook, and some of the items on Ramsey’s desk rattled, as more bombs exploded above. “We had reports of a piloted Attack Drone,” Hunter replied. “And we had a report from one lookout saying that ten or twelve Stalkers are inbound from the west. Then the bombs began to fall. Now we’re blind.”
Ramsey felt an emptiness where his stomach should have been as he looked out the window into the tunnel beyond. He could hear small chunks of concrete hitting the roof and could see people running every which way as they sought shelter from the falling debris. What was it that Shakespeare had written? “Discretion is the better part of valor”? Yes, Ramsey thought to himself. It sure as hell is. He brought his eyes back to find that Hunter’s were waiting. “The engine is running?”
“Yes, sir. Per your orders.”
“And the charges are ready?”
Hunter nodded. “Ready and waiting.”
“Okay,” Ramsey replied. “Get all of the regulators onboard. You have five minutes.”
“What about the workers, women, and children?”
“We don’t have room,” Ramsey said hollowly. “I wish we did. You have your orders. Execute them.”
If Hunter disagreed with his employer’s decision, there was no sign of it on his face. “Five minutes. Yes, sir.” Then he was gone.
A blob of gray ash fell onto the front of Ramsey’s snowy white shirt. He blew it off. The whole thing was unfortunate. Very unfortunate. Why, after months of missing it, had the stinks been able to zero in on Tunnel-Through? There was no way to know.
But that was what contingency plans were for. Would the mayor of Shipdown welcome him with open arms? Maybe, and maybe not. Not that it mattered so long as Olmey did what he was told.
The thought brought a grim smile to Ramsey’s face as the train’s whistle blew three times, regulators rushed to enter the passenger cars, and gunshots were heard as they turned to fire on any citizen who tried to follow them aboard. A woman appeared outside the window. Her fists made a thumping sound as they beat on the glass. Ramsey closed his eyes.
Capelli was surrounded by darkness. Thunder rolled in the distance, the earth shook beneath him, and his head hurt. Something told him that he should get up. But he couldn’t remember why, and it was much easier to simply remain where he was. Then he felt something akin to wet sandpaper scrape across his face. The sensation was so annoying that he opened his eyes. And there, just inches away, was Rowdy’s blood-encrusted snout, his breath fogging the air. The dog whined eagerly and licked Capelli’s nose.
“Stop that,” Capelli said, as he sat up. “Talk about bad breath! What have you been eating, anyway?”
Rowdy was in no way offended by the comment and continued to nuzzle Capelli as he struggled to his feet. Much to his surprise, the Attack Drone had survived the collision with the hill and, though more than a little battered, was hanging motionless ten feet away.
Capelli attempted to ignore the pain in his head as he made his way over to the machine. And just in time, too—a Stalker pilot spotted him and opened fire. Geysers of dirt flew up as Capelli jumped onto the motorcycle-style seat and opened the throttle.
Then he was off, with Rowdy running along behind. They were headed east, and as soon as he could, Capelli turned right. The curve of the hillside led him back towards the west and Tunnel-Through’s southern entrance. Were the stinks aware of it? Capelli wanted to make sure they were.
But that plan went up in smoke as a series of carefully calculated explosions threw tons of rock aside and a massive locomotive nosed its way out of the tunnel and into the wan sunlight. The engine had a blocky appearance, was decorated with horizontal stripes of orange and black paint, and made a loud roaring sound. A sizable cowcatcher was sufficient to push medium-sized boulders out of the way as the train gathered speed. It didn’t require a genius to figure out that Ramsey was trying to escape. And Capelli knew that if he was allowed to do so, the ex-judge would return.
So Capelli executed a broad, sweeping turn that would allow him to strafe the train from front to back. And judging from the storm of projectiles striking the Drone’s shield, his approach had not gone unnoticed.
Capelli saw the engineer duck as projectiles bounced off the locomotive’s steel flank. Windows shattered as the Drone approached the first passenger car and a regulator was thrown back into the interior. And so it went, until all of the cars had been attacked and Capelli was forced to arc away.
But the train was still rolling and, as if to emphasize that fact, the engineer blew the horn three times. The long, drawn-out shrieks were like screams of defiance as the behemoth continued to gather speed.
The overlapping explosions and the sudden appearance of the locomotive came as a complete surprise to Susan. As was the piloted Drone that rounded the east side of the hill to attack it. She assumed a Hybrid was at the controls until she saw Rowdy racing along behind the machine and realized what that meant. Somehow, somewhere, her husband had taken control of the Drone and was using it for his own purposes. The most important of which was to stop the escaping train.
So as a pair of crablike Stalkers minced forward, their weapons blazing, Susan knew what she had to do. The problem being that she was too low for the shot she needed to make. So she raised the lid, jumped down onto the ground, and closed it again. Then it was a simple matter to step up onto the bumper and climb onto the roof.
The Fareye felt light as a feather as she brought the rifle up to her shoulder. The locomotive had two horizontal windows. Both were very small. The engineer’s head was no more than a dark blur beyond the dusty glass. But as the engine came towards her, Susan had to try. She squeezed the trigger, a hole appeared in the safety glass, and the target disappeared. The train began to slow. But would that be enough?